Chapter 10
Later that evening, his wrist bandaged, Asher poked around the kitchen in search of dinner. He found himself with the predicament of craving something but being unable to put his fingers on exactly what. For the umpteenth time, he opened the fridge, as if new food might have magically appeared since his last check. He was about to give in and just order pizza when there came a knock at the door. Thinking it likely to be Bowie coming around to check up on him, Asher prepared a joke as he yanked open the front door.
His words fell flat on the burst of cold air that swept in.
“Hi,” Clara greeted, sheepish. Was the redness of her cheeks courtesy of the nip in the air or because of what Bowie had said about attraction? She held up the bag clutched in one hand. “I heard about your
